


In Wine, Nothing

by Alahnore



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alahnore/pseuds/Alahnore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This doesn’t happen that often, but Asbel still worries. Sure, even Richard has limits, but…</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Wine, Nothing

This doesn’t happen often, but every time it does Asbel worries a bit more. But he can’t really bring it up now while it was happening… yet when he tries afterwards, he always gets the ‘I’m fine, don’t worry’ lecture. So all Asbel can do is let Richard cling to him and pet his hair as the king rests his head on Asbel’s thigh, looking miserable. He had accidently kicked the rest of his bottles down, and Asbel can still smell their high alcohol content wafting from the corner where the towels he used to clean it all up were. Wasn’t Richard underage? Did the king get the exemption to the rule? Well of course he did, he was the king…

“I’m not going anywhere, Richard,” Asbel soothes him, even as the man glances up at him with his eyes wide and glassy. “It’s okay.”

“Not the issue.” Richard grunts, even as his hold on Asbel doesn’t loosen. In a sense he just held on even more desperately.

Richard was a strong man, Asbel knew, but even the strongest men break down sometimes. He can’t begrudge Richard for showing a moment of weakness like this, given for how stressful not only running one country could be, but one that was now heavy with debt and he was more or less at the mercy of Fendel and Strahta financially speaking. And that wasn’t even touch the guilt he was carrying around… one Asbel saw plainly in moments like these, when Richard finally snaps for a few hours.

Asbel feels sorry for him, for all of that and the fact Richard did still just not trust enough of others to show anyone else just how hard it was for him. Richard never permits himself a moment of weakness around others unless it was Asbel. Not even Sophie was allowed to see the extent of how deep Richard’s scars ran.

The only thing Asbel was frightened of was the fact he wasn’t sure if he was enough to reach deep enough to help heal those scars.

“You must find me deplorable.” Richard groans from Asbel’s lap, his eyes closing. “I am deplorable. I’m pathetic. What sort of king does this?”

“You’re human, Richard. I just wish you didn’t drink yourself to half oblivion like this…”

“Oh? Should I go all the way to oblivion?” Richard asks sarcastically, a bit of his usual humor melting through, but there was a sharpness to it that makes Asbel cringe.

But the knight just continues to gently stroke Richard’s hair as he starts to groan again, muttering under his breath a thousand apologies and regrets. Asbel was the only one he would admit all of this to, at least this openly, this brokenly. Asbel carries it the best he can, because he was Richard’s best friend, his sword; if Asbel was willing to fight wars and risk his life for him, he could easily lend a listening ear, an understanding heart and a soothing hand. He just hopes it helps, that it’s enough.

“Something has to change.” Richard says abruptly, making Asbel pause in his petting. “How can I bring prosperity… to Windor, the worlds, if I’m a sorry sack of _shit_?”

Richard never uses that language unless he was feeling particularly hateful of himself after a drinking binge, and Asbel sighs softly. “It starts with you, Richard,” the knight says quietly. “You have to forgive yourself.”

“Have you?” Richard asks bitingly. “For Lord Aston’s death? For how your family has felt, struggled, for those seven years? For what Sophie was put through?”

“Well I’m not locking myself in my bedroom with my best friend half-drunk, now am I?” Asbel replies, eyes narrowing a bit.

Several seconds pass by before Richard suddenly lets go of him and sits up, and Asbel’s heart freezes, wondering if maybe letting his slight offense come through made things worse. Richard stares at him, his eyes narrow and face set in a frown.

Another minute passes before the king finally answers, “Don’t do that. I might do more regrettable things.”

It wasn’t what Asbel was expecting and his eyes widen. “What? What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said, Asbel. Also I am not half-drunk. I am fairly certainly I’m fully drunk. I would be closer to… how does Malik put it… _piss-drunk_ if you didn’t kick the rest of my bottles.”

“You don’t need to be that bad! Don’t let the Captain put weird ideas in your head. It’s bad enough he puts weird things into Sophie’s.” Asbel sighs.

Richard sits up a bit more, teetering just slightly before sitting back on his heels. His shirt was full of wrinkles because of how he laid before, but Asbel wasn’t going to point it out. As it was, Richard’s head was probably already going through a million things at once; Asbel doesn’t feel the need to make it worse.

Besides, Richard does it to himself just fine. “Do you have my ring still?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” almost nonchalantly Asbel raises his right hand, showing the beautiful jewel adorning his ring finger. “I always meant to ask you about it. It was the ‘key’ to that old family heirloom—”

“Do you like it?” Richard cuts him off. Asbel chides himself mentally for thinking he could distract Richard with that conversation.

“Yeah. It… was a present from you in a sense. Well, unless you want it back.” Asbel makes the move to pull the ring off, but Richard immediately reaches out, grasping his hands clumsily. It was almost… relieving that Richard was clumsy when drunk. It made him a little more normal.

“Keep it.” Richard insists. He seems ready to say more, but he stops, looking to the plain ring adorning Asbel’s left hand. That must be… In retrospect, it was hilarious how a ring from a friend looked so much more valuable than an engagement band.

In his hazy mind Richard curses that band. He had told Cheria to go for it, he had lectured Asbel about it, yet it was just another thing on his lists of regrets. Asbel seemed no happier for having that band on his hand. Shouldn’t he be with her? Or was he not happy? Did Asbel ask her to marry him because everyone pressured him?

_So either I’m taking up his precious time or I pushed him into a choice he is not happy with. You are truly deplorable, Richard Windor._

There was a flash of anger that runs through Richard, fueled by the drink and his own chaotic emotions. He grasps Asbel’s left hand, and the knight immediately tries to pull free when Richard’s fingers go to grasp his engagement ring. However the king had a grip on it and it slides right off, leaving Richard holding it up victoriously.

“Richard!” Asbel gapes at him, reaching for it, but the king puts a hand to Asbel’s chest to hold him back, holding the ring above their heads. That inch of height difference plays a bit of a role in proving Asbel’s defeat. “You _are_ drunk! C’mon, Richard, give it back. Cheria will kill me if I go back without it.”

“So you want it back because of Cheria.” Richard remarks neutrally. When Asbel stares blankly at him, the blond shoves him back to where he used to be on the bed. “You could personally care less?”

Asbel grunts when he flops back on the plush mattress, then half-glares at the intoxicated king. “It’s my engagement ring, Richard.”

“So what?”

And there wasn’t much else to say to that. Asbel wasn’t sure what Richard was trying to insinuate, but he tries not to get _too_ annoyed. Richard was drunk, and drunken people did weird things. It wasn’t the weirdest drunk-Richard had done anyway. “It signifies my engagement, Richard.”

“Did Cheria even get it for you?” Richard asks, looking the band over.

“Well… no. I bought it when getting hers…”

“Shouldn’t you only wear a ring on that finger you’re proud to wear?” the blond continues. “You should put my ring on that hand.”

Asbel’s cheeks tinted a light pink. “What? I can’t do that, Richard.”

Richard actually pouts. “Why not?”

_You need to break this habit._ “Well… wouldn’t that mean I’m engaged to you? Everyone knows you gave me this ring…”

Richard laughs. “Then this one,” He waves the engagement ring in the air, “would say you’re engaged to _yourself_!”

That was logic usually Asbel would come up with, not Richard. Maybe Asbel was rubbing off on him. “Richard…!”

“Which I guess isn’t that terrible,” the king went on. “You’re happy with yourself, right? You could be happy marrying yourself.”

“I can’t marry myself.”

“But that’d be happier than you marrying Cheria, right?” Richard asks, and Asbel stares at him. Richard scoots closer to him before just falling onto Asbel in a drunken heap, pulling a noise from the red-head. “Or me? Do you want to marry me, Asbel? I bet I could arrange it.”

“I’m not betting _anything_ with you while you’re like this.” Asbel mutters, one arm around Richard, the other behind him to keep them somewhat upright.

“Would you marry me?” Richard asks, suddenly teasing in his tone. Asbel couldn’t keep up with him when he was like this. This happens every time Richard broke down—his mood would flip flop so suddenly and randomly… “What if I were a woman? Would you like me better if I were a woman, Asbel?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. You must have drunk more than I thought.” Asbel sighs. “I like you as you are, Richard.”

“But would you _marry_ me?”

“Richard you’re asking me weird questions.”

“ _You_ are the odd one. You have no problem with me doing this to you. Or being like this toward you. Or being _on_ you.” Richard starts, his teasing tone dropping in favor of something a little more… emotional. “You have no issues keeping this a secret, carrying my weight, just… just…! You’re the weird one, Asbel!”

Asbel prefers to think of it that he was patient, but there were several points of his life he knew that was not the case. “You’re my friend, Richard. I’d do anything for you.”

“You’re acting like this is okay!”

“Everyone has their point they just… need to let go a little. This isn’t the best way to do it, no… but you only do it what? A couple times a year? I don’t think that’ll harm you or me any. You’re human like anyone else. It’s okay.” Asbel actually smiles to him. It seems like the right thing to do. “Let out whatever, Richard. I’m pretty sure I know what you actually seriously mean to say and what is the drink talking.”

_You have no idea. You’re stupid._ “You’re not angry at me at all… are you?”

“Huh? Why would I be?”

Richard huffs and just rests his head on Asbel’s shoulder, curling up against him before resolutely jamming the knight’s ring on his own finger, over his glove. “I’m keeping this then.”

“What?! You can’t keep it, Richard.” But Asbel makes no move to take it back. When Richard was more sober he’d give it back. Hopefully.

“Yes, I can. It’s not like you’re attached to it.”

Asbel wasn’t really, but still… _At least he seems okay. Not as… regretful._ “It really is a good thing I kicked those bottles.”

“Which, how the hell did you? I looked away for one second and there was a crash.”

Richard did not look away; he was just too busy downing the bottle he had currently. But Asbel doesn’t point that out, instead just raising a hand to pet the king’s hair again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You tripped.”

“I did not.” Asbel huffs.

This doesn’t happen a lot, but even still, Asbel worries a little bit more. It feels like sometimes things don’t change, that Richard wasn’t getting better. That he was still carrying so much weight, so many regrets and such deep scars. They were at a standstill again, and Asbel just wants to get closer, reach deeper and do what he can to help.

But how can he, when Richard keep blocking him out?


End file.
